


in time (we take a leap of faith)

by jswoon2



Category: Hockey RPF, Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Not Hockey Players (Hockey RPF), Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 15:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jswoon2/pseuds/jswoon2
Summary: There are twelve zeros on his arm. They’ve been that way since birth. Over decades, he’s been told that his Timer is broken as if he hadn’t already figured that out. Sid is an abnormality.





	in time (we take a leap of faith)

**Author's Note:**

> Title partially taken from the film "In Time" (2011). Plot utilizes the soulmate timer trope along with the Reddit prompt: "People age until they reach 18, and then stop until they meet their soulmates, so they can grow old together."
> 
> Personally, I thought 18 was a bit young so I upped it to 25. Also, the film "In Time" has 13 digit slots for their timers (0000•00•0•00•00•00). Personally, I don't quite understand their formatting/units used and I didn't want to rewatch the film so instead I used 12 digit slots (YY:MM:DD:HR:MN:SC).

**00:00:00:00:00:00**

 

Sid scrunches his nose, watching boredly as Sylvia runs into Will’s arms just in time for him to save her. _Cliche_ , he thinks. His date, however, seems to love the film, looping their arms together so she can rest her cheek on his shoulder. It doesn’t look very comfortable but her hand is soft and warm in his own so he allows the closeness.

Sarah is sweet and has a dry, yet witty, sense of humor Sid appreciates. The way she dresses is conservative, always keeping her Timer covered. She and Sid haven’t talked about their Timers much. Hers must still be ticking because Sid’s never changed which gives him so many questions. She’s sweet and popular enough in her department. There’s no reason for her to be wasting her time on Sid when she could be looking for her real soulmate. She wouldn’t be the first to decide that Sid wouldn’t be worth her time.

Hah. Time. It feels ironic, really.

The zeros on Sid’s arm feel like they itch and reflexively, he squeezes Sarah’s hand tighter.

“That was such a sweet ending,” Sarah whispers to him. The movie isn’t quite over yet though. Sylvia and Will are robbing time banks now to give the viewers one last triumphant feeling that the good guys truly won.

“Yeah,” Sid automatically agreeing. He forces a smile and relaxes his hand.

There are twelve zeros on his arm. They’ve been that way since birth. Over decades, he’s been told that his Timer is broken as if he hadn’t already figured that out. Sid is an abnormality. One born with all zeros on their Timer could mean that he was already born with his soulmate but when he stopped aging at 25, that didn’t seem like the case anymore.

After five dates with Sarah, he feels like he’s aged another hundred years but he knows he barely looks older today than he did yesterday.

The movie starts to roll its credits.

He and Sarah allow most of the crowd to exit before they do. For just the briefest second, she leans on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Sid drops his hand from hers. They bump shoulders and he brings her back to him by putting his arm around her. She smells nice when he leans in to kiss the top of her head.

Sid wishes that Sarah was his soulmate.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Kris is 31 now.

In the years that Sid has known Kris, Kris has always been aging. Every year there’s something different about him, whether it was the developing crow’s feet or the few gray hairs every once and awhile. Kris plucks them all while Sid watches, trying not to let his envy show. He doesn’t think he does a very good job but Kris never comments, always so cautious when mentioning his family around Sid.

Sid isn’t sure if that should make him feel grateful or sad.

Kris met his soulmate in high school. He practically grew up with her. They have a cute kid that looks like the both of them and a beautiful house and a beautiful life together. Neither one of them had to spend any time searching because fate led them together so early on.

“So, when’re you guys gonna make things _official_?” Kris asks. He has his feet up on Sid’s desk. _Sid’s_ desk.

Sometimes Sid really dislikes the philosophy professors.

Sid knocks Kris’s feet off. “What do you mean? Are we in middle school?”

“No,” Kris replies automatically. “But it’s always good to let a lady know you’re interested. You guys have gone on what? Three dates now?”

“Five.”

“An even better reason to just ask her to be your girlfriend already,” Kris says like it’s easy. Like Sid hasn’t been through this before with countless other dates.

“Her Timer is still working,” Sid grumbles as he glares at a paper turned in by one of his students. The formatting is wrong, Sid notes. Whether the rest of the paper followed the rubric, Sid is a bit scared to find out.

“Did you ask her?” Kris continues on.

“No.”

“Then how do you know it’s still working?”

“Neither of us have aged.”

“Sid,” Kris says, sounding part exasperated and part in disbelief, “it’s been a month. Maybe two? You’re not gonna age that much in that short amount of time.”

Sid taps his pen on his student’s paper. He wants to mark the whole thing in red but that wouldn’t be fair to his student. It’s not his student’s fault that he’s not in a good mood. “But I want to,” he says a bit petulantly.

“It’ll happen,” Kris says, quieter now.

“When? I’ve been waiting for so long. When is it my turn or am I really broken?” Sid snaps.

Taken aback, Kris stands. Sid thinks he has a class to teach in a half hour anyway. Knowing Kris, he’ll probably stroll across campus, get a coffee, and show up late as he does. All of his students love him anyway. Every semester the upperclassmen fight for spots to be his UTA’s.

“You’re not, but if you’re really not gonna listen to me because you’re in a mood, I’m not going to waste my time,” Kris says. Sid winces, but in a way, he feels what Kris said to him was deserved. “Alex has his fall play this weekend. When you’re in a better mood, call me to let me know if you’re coming. Cath got an extra ticket for you.”

“Okay,” Sid says. He lowers his gaze and sighs. When he looks back up, his office is empty and the door has been left open.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Some of his students, just like himself, haven’t aged in years. Most of his students are nearly done with their programs. Some of them haven’t reached 25 yet but those that have either come into Sid’s class feeling sympathy for his situation or envious of it.

“ _I_ _t’s almost like being_ immortal,” one girl had said to him. Her Timer had just over three years left on it. She had spent years traveling in hopes of finding her soulmate before  she realized that was no longer the case. “ _I want to experience life first. Then, when I’m ready, I’ll go looking for him again_.”

Sid had tried that approach at one time too. He’s taken sabbatical after sabbatical to teach in other countries, to do his research first-hand in places he’d never been to before and not once has he come across a stranger that makes his heart skip a beat like it happens in the movies. His soulmate must either be hiding for him or searching ardently in all the wrong places. Maybe that’s why Sid finally settled in Jersey, figuring it’d be best to stay in one place in case his soulmate ever came looking.

But then again, his Timer has always been zeroed out. There might not be anyone out there.

Tigger III, unlike Sid,  is not resistant to aging. He’s a good cat, though. He keeps Sid company when nobody else does. Tigger didn’t like Sid much at first when Sid picked him up from the pound but now the tabby is endearingly clingy.

Happy his owner is home, Tigger climbs onto Sid’s lap and kneads his claws into Sid’s thighs. Alex Trebek begins reading out the Jeopardy categories as Sid hears his phone ring.

“Off,” Sid says, shooing Tigger away.

The apartment Sid rents is part of a building he came into ownership some thirty years ago. The previous owner had been old but without a soulmate supposedly. Tom always denied that Arthur was his soulmate but Sid had seen the pictures. He saw proof that they aged together.

Arthur passed away before Sid even moved into the building. Arthur smoked so much and he drank even more after the war, Tom had said. With no kids to leave the building to, the building that Tom’s great grandfather had once built, Sid ended up in possession of it.

“Hello,” Sid answers his phone. A wall phone, in 2019. His younger coworkers tease him for it.

“Hey, Sid,” Mario Lemieux, the head of Sid’s department, says, “I hope I’m not calling too late.”

It’s ten at night on a Tuesday. It is late, not that he’d tell Dr. Lemieux that.

“Of course not,” Sid says. Curious, Tigger winds himself around Sid’s ankles.

“Well, nothing is set in stone yet, but we have some graduate students to interview and one of the applicants is very interested in your research. If you could spare some time, the board and I were thinking that it would be … nice of you to be present,” Dr. Lemieux explains.

Sid considers the homework he had just given his students. His GTA has been asking him for extra chores lately, likely for a letter of recommendation. Sid might just finally take Conor up on that offer.

“Just let me know and I’ll do my best to be there,” Sid says. He smiles to make his voice more pleasant even though Lemieux isn’t able to see it.

“Wonderful!” Dr. Lemieux says excitedly. “Off the record Sidney, there is a board position opening up next semester. If you were interested, I could spread the word around a little bit. Get the others on board for voting you in.”

“I know.” Sid’s smile feels tight now. “I appreciate it, but I’m not interested.”

Lemieux sighs. “I figured as much. I just thought I’d remind you in case you might’ve changed your mind from last year. But anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time tonight. Have a goodnight, Sidney.”

“Goodnight,” Sid replies.

Begging for attention, Tigger nearly climbs up Sid’s pant leg. He gathers the cat up in his arms and carries Tigger back to the living room like a baby. Sid’s microwave dinner must have gone cold by now.

“It’s just you and me,” Sid tells Tigger.

Tigger meows back, butting his head underneath Sid’s chin. Just them is better than being alone.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Sid dreams often and seldom remembers them after waking up. He thinks he had dreamt about Taylor and her soulmate. His parents paid a high dowry to match her with a wealthy man. That was before people really understood what the Timers were. Their parents’ Timers were blank for as long as Sid can recall but when he thinks about them, he is almost sure they weren’t soulmates. They were in love and that was enough.

Taylor’s betrothed was not someone she saw herself capable of loving. Although George didn’t seem like a bad man, he was not particularly interested in the idea of getting married. Having children, yes, George wanted heirs but a wife to take care of was not important to him. Money was never of an issue for George where he would have to worry about needing a wife to take care of him.

The marriage wasn’t stopped and Taylor’s hand was given away.

When she became much older than Sid, he couldn’t remember her being happy. But in his dream, he thought he saw her smiling. Her cheeks were still dusted with the same rosy pink from all her portraits and her hair was done up in complicated rolls. However, her clothes were more familiar to Sid. A hoodie Sid didn’t quite recognize and warm cotton pants. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, her Timer on display and blank.

A baby starts to cry but not the baby in her arms. From behind Taylor, a strangely familiar man with no face held another child in his arms. The wriggling child was swaddled in a pink crochet blanket like one his mother made for him ages and ages ago. The man coos at the child but Taylor reaches out for her and they exchange the twins.

“Sidney,” Taylor had said. Her voice sounded so much different than Sid remembers. Happier. Lighter. He tries so hard to remember. As she continues, her voice becomes harder and harder to hear. “I want you to meet —”

“Taylor? Taylor, I can’t hear you!” Sid quickly interjects. His eyes feel wet. He jumps up from the chair he had been sitting in. He hadn’t remembered sitting down.

“Say it again, Taylor. Taylor!” he shouts again. His sister looks so far away from him now. He runs forward, his hand reaching to her. She looks at him like she doesn’t understand. She takes the baby girl’s hand and waves it at him. Taylor doesn’t understand how far they’ve gone from each other. “No!”

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

“You look like shit,” Marc-Andre says. Kris elbows him in the gut. “Of course you usually look so stunning. You know, now I know that you’re finally human. Before you looked like a perfect —” Another elbow and Marc-Andre makes a choked off sound. “Too far?”

“Much,” Kris agrees.

Sid finishes off his bagel with a sour look.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Kris asks.

“Yeah,” Sid admits. He doesn’t mention that he woke up feeling worse than when he had gone to bed.

“If it’s what I said the other day,” Kris tries to apologize before Sid starts waving him off.

“It’s fine,” Sid says. “Does Cath still have that extra ticket? I was thinking of handing some of my assignments to Sheary so I’ll have all the free time I need to see Alex’s play.”

Kris smiles, looking relieved but not because Sid isn’t mad at him. Sid often declines offers from the Letangs and the Fleurys when they go out. He’s been on too many awkward double dates with them. So long as he can keep his composure, going out with the Letangs will be a nice change. Tigger would be proud.

He hopes Taylor would be, too.

“Ugh,” Marc-Andre groans. He looks at his phone buzzing on the table in disdain. “The kiddos must need me,” he says as he answers the call from one of his grad students. “If everything in the lab is in one piece, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. If something broke, I can be there in less than ten,” he answers, walking away from the small table they claimed in the campus coffee shop.

Sid notices his phone continually wobble toward the edge of the table and he pretends to ignore it.

“You gonna answer that brick of yours?” Kris teases.

While Sid hasn’t given up his wall phone yet (caller ID be damned), he had no choice but to give into getting a smartphone. The touch screen isn’t ideal when he puts his phone in his front pocket but his Nokia was well priced and the store clerk had assured him that he would never break it so long as he got a screen protector.

“I can call back later,” Sid answers evasively.

“And why can’t you answer now? I’ll wait,” Kris offers, leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee.

Sid isn’t impressed. “It can wait until later.”

Kris sighs. “When you’re ready, will you tell me?”

“It probably won’t be much longer,” Sid admits. He isn’t sure that it’s Sarah calling but she was the first person he thought of. She had asked if he wanted to get dinner and he had said he wasn’t sure if his research would keep him on campus late, like a coward. He’s long finished his journal entry on the globalization of France.

Jake will finish the proofreading and then Sid will submit it with both their names.

“You do always do _this_ ,” Kris says, waving his finger around in the air. “Like, you answer my questions so I always have more questions that you never answer unless I force you.”

“Do not,” he protests, weakly.

“Do too,” Kris scoffs. “If you think I’m going to judge my elders, you don’t know very much about me after all. I’ll just snoop around behind your back.”

“Hey,” Sid protests, throwing his crumpled napkin at Kris’s face. “I’m not _that_ old.”

“Well, time _is_ a construct and maybe you’re not that old but you’ve also never told me when you were born and you only keep your most recent degree on your wall in your office which is cheating by the way. I know you’re at least thirty years older than me, but one day I will find out,” Kris says, serious. Then, switching to playful, he throws Sid’s napkin back at him.

“If time is a construct,” Sid says, imitating Kris’s voice, “then it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me. I know you don’t have office hours today,” Kris says, hurrying to catch up with Sid who gathered his things and left the table without warning.

Sid laughs to himself and keeps going. His phone buzzes again, feeling heavy in his pocket. If Sarah left a voicemail, he’ll deal with it later.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

He can’t believe, of all things, he has to argue with the president of the _Harry Potter_ club on campus for the room that the debate club clearly reserved first.

The president is a senior, probably entirely funded by daddy’s money. Sid doesn’t typically harbor ill will toward those students so long as they come to class and do their work but it’s another thing to come face-to-face with one of them, with their popped collars (Sid really thought they were out of style) and Apple products. AirPods, Macs, Apple Watches, iPads, iPhones. Sid isn’t sure how many devices from one company is too much but he imagines this student arguing with him has more items on his person worth more than all the things in Sid’s entire apartment.

“You don’t think you could go somewhere else?” Sid asks, trying to remain polite. He thought Harry Potter nerds were, well, nerds, not Greek life socialites in training.

“We could, but we already settled all our things,” the student says, as if their things — backpacks and an old DVD player — are really all that hard to move elsewhere.

“Professor Crosby,” one of Sid’s mentees hedges carefully, “we can just move down the hall. It’s really fine.”

The point of the matter, however, is that Sid is positive that he reserved this specific room with the correct date and time but a child barely 100 years old is telling him where to take him and his debate kids and shove it. The _point_ is, they can hook their little DVD player up in _any_ room but this room has a stage and two six-foot folding tables for his kids so Sid can give them an accurate atmosphere of a debate competition.

One hundred years ago — hell, even fifty years ago — a student with a sensible head on their shoulders wouldn’t tell a professor no.

Sid grits his teeth. “For tonight we’ll leave,” he concedes. “But,” he adds, hearing the shuffle of his student’s feet come to an abrupt halt, “this room is ours every Wednesday night, six thirty to nine o’clock.”

Mr. Popped-Collar-Daddy-Warbucks-Pays-My-Way gapes at Sid like a fish at the challenge.

Perhaps Sid is known throughout the university for not being the most confrontational in his deceptively, physically young, but otherwise old, age. Not tonight though. A line he didn’t even know he had drawn had just been crossed.

The free lecture hall two doors down isn’t as nice but there’s at least a podium that Sid can move and desks that the children can arrange with a single aisle between them. Of course there are no white board markers in the room but the projector works just fine. Tonight they’re beginning their debate on life sentences and whether or not it should be modified for those with active Timers now that their research has been completed.

He looks forward to Conor’s argument the most.

They take a break halfway through the meeting so both groups can reassess their research. Sid comments that some of their research is repetitive and allows them to break off for snacks to think things over again.

Sarah calls again.

Not wanting to make a lady wait so long for him to finally return her call or call her back too late, he answers it on the third ring.

“You can call back later,” she tells him after he lets her know that he’s been busy all day. Busy with class, busy grading, busy avoiding her message, busy with his kids.

“That’s alright. We’re taking a quick break,” he says.

“Oh, good! I was wondering if you weren’t too busy, if you wanted to come over this weekend. I found a new pasta recipes online and I’ve been dying to share it with someone,” Sarah says.

Sarah is sweet.

Sid is lonely but not lonely enough to be a bad person.

“Actually, I do have plans this weekend,” Sid says. Alex’s play. He could take Sarah with him. He could call the school to buy another ticket. Kris and Cath wouldn’t mind. His wrist where his Timer is, itches. “Maybe another time?”

“Sure, another time … It might be a while though. I’m heading a study abroad trip to Ireland over and the planning for it! You wouldn’t believe how much of a pain it is coordinating with another country in another timezone.” On the phone, Sarah laughs. “Just let me know.”

“Of course.”

Sid scratches and scratches but the itch is still there. He hangs up.

Back in the classroom, Bryan and Conor were nice enough to save Sid one of each donut hole flavor. While Sid has never directly told his students to not bribe a debate judge, they certainly know that sweets are Sid’s weak spot.

He won’t play favorites. Or at least, he’ll try not to.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

“Sidney!” Cath says, pulling Sid into a hug as they meet in the elementary school parking lot. “You look so nice.” She pats down his suit even adjusting his tie.

“Thanks,” he replies. He had been worried about overdressing but Kris had said that it was a formal event. “You look lovely. Is that a new dress?”

“Thank you.” She playfully pushes his shoulder. “At least _somebody_ noticed.” Cath looks at her husband pointedly.

Kris looks like a deer caught in someone’s headlights. He holds Alex in his arms as a buffer. “You always look great, babe. I mean —”

“Eh, save it,” Cath cuts off. She takes her son from Kris. “We’re going to be late!”

She walks off and Kris walks into Sid on purpose. Together they allow Cath to walk into the school a few feet in front of them.

“So what century did you learn to kiss ass like that?” Kris teases.

Sid rolls his eyes. “Never gonna tell you that.”

“One day I’m just gonna start guessing,” Kris warns playfully.

“You can try but I doubt you’ll ever guess it correctly.” Childishly, Sid pushes Kris into a doorway. Cath doesn’t see though so it’s okay.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Jack is a criminal justice professor but Anna from the history advising office knows him through a friend of a friend. According to Jess, Jack’s Timer doesn’t work either. His clock has been stuck on one second for years. The time will tick back up to a half hour and come back down, always stopping at one second.

There’s a part of Sid that feels bad for accepting a blind date with Jack knowing he told Sarah he’d be busy publishing another paper. They never really discussed if their relationship was closed or open. Sid just never pushed himself to meet anyone else. Even now, it was Anna that orchestrated this dinner date.

Sid declined Jack’s offer to pick him up and upon getting their table, Jack casually threw in that he would pay for dinner. Sid can get next time’s bill, Jack said, like he’s already sure there’ll be a next time.

Considering he’s hopeful for romance, Sid knows he’s a pessimist more often than not. With each failed spark, he can’t help but consider throwing in the towel.

“So history, eh? You study everything or do you, like, have a specialty?” Jack asks over wine and smalltalk.

“I mostly research Eastern Europe but I’ve published a few papers about the urbanization and development of New France a long time ago in undergrad,” Sid says. “My classes this semester are mostly entry level though. So I have more time to work on my book, that is.”

Jack looks impressed. “A book on what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s kind of a secret. I haven’t really, uh, told too many people about it before. It’s just a thing I’ve been working on for a couple years now. Maybe longer? It’s really just a side project. My research comes first, you know?” Sid replies but Jack doesn’t really know.

In addition to working for Princeton, Jack works for the FBI. The closest thing Jack has to doing research is gathering intel.

“ _Jess says he’s dangerous. But, like, in a sexy way_ ,” Anna had told Sid before the date excitedly.

Sid has dated long enough to know that he’s passed his dating dangerous-sexy phase. He wants to come home to a pair of cats (Tigger has been asking for a sibling for ages) and a home cooked meal he can share with a partner he can be disgustingly sweet and domestic with. Considering Jack is openly ready to go back to Quantico if he’s called tells Sid that he won’t get that with Jack. It’s not in Sid’s cards to uproot his career to move to Virginia.

Jack talks about his dogs and Sid tells him about Tigger. Aside from the basic pleasantries, they don’t talk about work much. Their lifestyles appear more and more different the longer dinner goes on.

Jack is still enjoying his search for his soulmate. He doesn’t specify but Sid infers that Jack dislikes staying in one place for too long. In fact, part of the reason why he wants to go back to teach at the Academy, Jack tells Sid, is to delay his inevitable meeting with his soulmate. So he knows. He knows that Sid isn’t his and he isn’t Sid’s. Jack likes his youth and the strength that comes with it. Friends he went through the Academy with are old now with desk jobs and piles of paperwork.

Jack doesn’t want that.

Jack isn’t the first person Sid’s ever met who has that mindset.

Aside from their mutual love for hockey Sid doesn’t feel much interest for Jack. Jack is confident and smooth but not arrogant. He and Sid just want different things.

“Jess thinks I need to settle down, you know? Lots of people when they find out how long you’ve been 25 think you need to grow up. I’ve watched enough of my friends get old to know that those kids don’t even understand the half of it,” Jack tells Sid. It sounds like he wants Sid to agree with him.

Sid would but he doesn’t think Jack really knows what he’s talking about either. He could tell Jack how old he really is but he doubts the agent would believe him without seeing his ID first. Maybe even then Jack might think Sid is pulling his leg.

Age and experience are two things Sid has much of.

They cut dinner short at dessert. Sid is tempted but he’d rather curl up on his couch with Tigger in his pajamas than be on this date. Once the check is paid, Sid can do that.

He’ll have plenty of stories to share with Tigger when he gets home.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Kris takes over Sid’s computer to finish his rewatch of Stranger Things while Sid sits on the other side of his desk like he’s the visitor. The plot with the Demogorgon does make Sid a bit interested but typing up Conor’s letter of recommendation is the greater priority. The senior has been reminding Sid for weeks and while he’s certainly started the letter, none of his drafts seem good enough.

He doesn’t want to give one of his best UTA’s a half-assed letter.

Sid is starting to think that Conor is ready to take the letter from him anyway. Half-assed or not. As if, in all of Sid’s years of living, he’s ever half-assed anything.

While contemplating if using the word ‘dedicated’ to describe Conor twice in the letter within the same paragraph seems too repetitive, Sid’s phone begins to ring. Most of the office operates with their cell phones but Sid prefers having people contact him through his extension. Only other faculty in the university have his number so it isn’t often that he gets called.

Everything is through email these days.

Slow on the draw, Kris picks up the phone first.

“Sidney Crosby’s office. Can I take a message?” he answers with a shit eating grin.

Sid quickly bats Kris’s hand away to answer the phone himself. “Hello? I’m sorry about that. This is Sidney, how can I help you?” He glares at his cackling friend.

“No worries, Sid,” Dr. Lemieux assures. “I was just calling to let you know that that grad school applicant is flying in Thursday. Sergei is picking him up and some of us will be having dinner with him that night. Would you still be interested in joining us?”

Sid doesn’t remember telling Lemieux he was interested. He’s pretty sure that Lemieux is the only one that’s interested. Still.

“What time should I be ready?”

“Fantastic! Laura is having some trouble finding a reservation for such a large party at last minute.  No matter where we end up, we’re planning on 7PM,” Dr. Lemieux says, sounding pleased.

Sid scribbles the time on his desk calendar. “Just have Laura get back to me on where.”

“Of course. You’ll be the first to know!”

Dr. Lemieux hangs up first. Sid looks at his appointment time and suppresses a groan. He had planned on binging the last season of Survivor with Tigger over Chinese food that night. His plans, quite literally, was to have no plans. Sid can only tell his boss no so many times before one of them has to be a yes.

“Is spending time with Lemieux suck that bad?” Kris asks.

“It’s not that.” Sid sighs and slouches in his chair until he feels boneless. “There’s apparently an applicant who based his undergraduate thesis on my dissertation so Lemieux thinks it would be a good idea if we met each other.”

“Hey, if this new kid isn’t too bad, maybe he can be your new Conor.”

“I’m not interested in getting a new Conor. If anything Jake should be the new Conor. God, all my favorite students are leaving me,” Sid laments drastically.

Kris rolls his eyes. “Yeah, by _all my students_ ,” he imitates Sid, “you mean two kids. You’ve seen more than two of kids graduate in back to back terms before.”

“Sure, but I didn’t like those kids. Those kids would email me two days before their application deadline asking for rec letters. _And_ they acted like I didn’t know they were going for extra advising to Giroux. Please,” Sid snorts. “It’s not like I care that much, but some of those kids didn’t have to go around the entire department when I had already said I’d take them on.”

“Jealous much? Or is this bitterness I sense? Either way your old man is showing,” Kris comments.

“I am old.”

Kris’s eyes light up.

“I’m not telling you _how_ old. Keep trying.”

“Just give me a hint! Are you older or younger than Keanu Reeves?” Kris asks having long abandoned his TV show for interrogating Sid.

Sid looks at his friend in disbelief. “Keanu Reeves is ancient!”

“And you’re really vague! And you’re a history genius so it’s hard to tell what stories you tell are because you’ve read a lot of books or if you were there firsthand!”

“I was _not_ born in the BC times.”

“Great,” Kris says, mockingly appreciative. “Now you’ve eliminated half my guesses finally.”

“And you’ll never guess right.”

“Older or younger than Keira Knightley?”

“Which one is she? The scientist from Thor or the pirate lady?”

Kris studies Sid’s face carefully. “I really can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg or you really don’t know the difference.”

“I could report you for elder abuse,” Sid replies, feeling it challenging to keep back the grin.

“You making fun of me is child abuse!”

Sid raises a brow.

“Not that I’m saying I’m a child! I’m a grown man but you’re, like, a — a whatever! I’m not gonna win so I’m just gonna stop,” Kris says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sid and Kris look at each other in silence then the laughter breaks out.

Carefully, Kris eyes Sid’s locked filing cabinet.

“My old diplomas aren’t in there.”

“Damn,” Kris says, defeated for today.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

There’s a multitude of reasons why Sid doesn’t want to accept the board position. There’s also plenty of reasons why Mario so badly wants Sid to accept. The traditionalist in Sid rarely wants to pull out his age over rank and that’s the thing. His stint as chairman at New Brunswick is long behind him. It’s easy to say Sid is capable. It’s more important to say that Sid is tired and he stepped down from higher ranking positions for a reason.

Sid will always do his job, even if that means attending a dinner in a stuffy suit to meet an anthropologist turned historian due to his research.

The meal is on the university's dime so Sid fully intends on order the most expensive steak.

Lemieux, as the first one to get to the restaurant, waves Sid over to their table. He already has a drink and is patiently waiting with Pascal. The other glasses on the table indicate that some of the others on the board are here but not here- _here_.

“Laura is in the lady’s room and I think Charles went outside to take a call. Sergei is coming with Max and Evgeni,” Dr. Lemieux explains. “While we’re waiting, I have a copy of his application. I wish I would’ve thought of emailing it to you earlier.” He reaches for his briefcase sitting on the floor.

“No worries,” Sid replies, taking the folder with Evgeni’s application Lemieux hands him. “I’m sure you have a million other things to do.”

The papers in the folder nearly fly out when Sid opens it. More than just a single printout of Evgeni’s application, there’s notes and copies of Evgeni’s writing. The articles aren’t anything Sid has read before. Sid has maybe dipped into anthropology a little but it’s not really his field. Not only that but the articles seem like they’ve been run through an auto-translate program.

Translation issues aside, Evgeni is well published and the letters of recommendation he received are more than impressive. They’re personal and well thought out. Perhaps the only thing that’s holding him back on paper is the fact that he’s nearly 25, a bit older for most folks going into grad school. But just browsing through the dates on his CV, it appears that Evgeni’s slower pace has nothing to do with laziness.

“Can he speak English?” Sid asks out of curiosity. Learning a second language is in such a high demand nowadays. It wouldn’t surprise Sid.

“He’s been learning for years, is what he told us in our first interview. Lately, he’s been working on translating his old publications personally.”

Sid is impressed.

While Sid grew up speaking a mixture of English and French, over the years from lack of practice he can barely ask where the bathroom is anymore.

“He’s applying for a doctoral program. I thought he was just another grad applicant,” Sid reads out loud from the application. Mario makes a noise of confirmation.

“He was, originally. But after an initial interview and talking it over with the review board, we convinced him that someone with his credentials would do very well in the doctoral program,” Mario says. He takes a sip of his water, reaching over Sid to pull out Evgeni’s original application that was stuck in the very back of the folder.

“Well, he looks very good on paper.”

Laura and Charles return as Mario gets word from Sergei that they’ll be at the restaurant soon. Sid orders a water despite feeling he may need an alcoholic beverage of some kind. He doesn’t do office politics often. If no one else orders any alcohol, he’ll just have to hold himself back and get through the night sober.

Sid is taking an untimely bite of the complimentary bread when Sergei leads Max Talbot and Evgeni to their table. He tries to chew rapidly but without butter, his mouth is dry. He doesn’t try hiding behind Mario to delay his inevitable introduction to Evgeni. He does do his best to gesture to his coworkers to encourage them to go first.

Discreetly brushing his hands on his pants, it’s finally his turn.

Evgeni is huge, tall and broad shouldered but not intimidating. His eyes look droopy and tired, though Sid thinks part of that is probably due to the jetlag. His voice is deep with a gravelly tone. Sid shivers and hopes his hand isn’t too dirty when he and Evgeni shake hands.

Evgeni, a name with ancient Greek origins meaning “noble.” A common name that can be masculine or feminine. A fitting name for Malkin.

“You’re probably familiar with Dr. Sidney Crosby,” Sid hears Mario distantly introduce him.

Automatically Sid holds his hand out to shake, wordless.

“Of course. Dr. Crosby famous,” Evgeni says. He accepts the handshake warmly with both hands. “Very nice to meet.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Sid replies. Maybe he shakes Evgeni’s hand a tad too long. Sid isn’t sure why. This dinner isn’t about him.

A lot of the dinner conversation is hard to focus on. Something in the back of Sid’s mind just distracts him. He tries to take social cues so he can laugh when everyone else does and he nods periodically when Evgeni talks about his research and how he went from anthropology to history. Sid’s research on European history initially got Evgeni interested in studying in America then after his friend moved to stateside, studying abroad really settled on Evgeni’s radar.

Sid’s entire body just itches. His skin itches and he feels twitchy like he’s a kid again and he doesn’t know how to sit still yet.

There’s a part of Sid that realizes he’s probably being unprofessional. Evgeni came all this way, specifically to Princeton because of Sid and his research. Evgeni is making the change to focus on Russian history from Russian anthropology because Sid inspired him to do so and yet Sid has said only a few sentences to him because he feels so distracted.

In the past Sid has learned how much it sucks to meet the person you idolize only to be disappointed by them in real life.

Sid imagines he hasn’t met many of Evgeni’s expectations as of right now.

“Feeling alright, Sid?” Pascal eventually asks when the general conversation dies down.

Sid pokes at his steak, pushing it into his baked potato. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You know, I heard through the grapevine that you’re working on another research paper,” Charles adds. A tired Evgeni perks up, suddenly interested.

Interested in a project that doesn’t really exist. This is why Sid doesn’t usually lie. With his luck it usually comes back to him to bite him in the ass. In this case, his department head is going to figure out Sid is full of shit.

“It’s really just an idea right now. I haven’t really started researching anything. It’s just a tentative idea,” Sid tries to explain as vaguely as possible.

Unfortunately, Dr. Lemieux wants to know more. Later Sid will have to brush off more rumors of favoritism since even in front of the other chairs, Lemieux offers Sid names of organizations with grant money to burn so Sid can travel.

“I was just considering expanding my dissertation,” Sid lies. “Time has changed so much that I was thinking it might be time to update my research.”

“Well you know, Evgeni based his thesis partly on your research. Maybe you two could collaborate,” Sergei suggests. He’s trying to be helpful but Sid wants to scream.

Evgeni straightens in his chair. This is his moment where he can impress the people who are ultimately in charge of deciding his future in education all while impressing the man that drew him to this place. He looks the most awake Sid has observed him to be all night. He talks, motivated, and idly gesturing with his hands.

As naturally as he breathes, Evgeni pushes his sleeves up to his forearms as he talks to the table about his passions.

Sid tries to focus on the man’s face but his eyes drift to Evgeni’s Timer. It’s zeroed out and for some reason, that makes Sid’s skin finally settle.

Sid thinks Evgeni is brilliant. He’s well organized, well spoken, and well read in his research. Evgeni knows what he wants. He wants to go to Princeton and Sid is pretty confident that soon Evgeni will get his wish.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Feeling sick, Sid uncharacteristically cancels class for the day. His head has been hurting since he arrived on campus and his stomach feels like it’s in knots. No matter what he’s taken to try to relieve his symptoms, he just feels terrible. Even a nap in his office couldn’t make things better. Not even a little bit.

Sid means to at least finish his work but Marc-Andre bullies Sid into going home with regards from Kris. Had Kris not been teaching at the time, he probably would’ve dragged Sid out of the history building personally.

Tigger is trying to break into the kitchen cabinet where Sid keeps the catnip when Sid walks through the front door. Tigger doesn’t even try to hide that he’d been trying to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. Catnip is a treat Sid usually only reserves for special occasions but today Sid doesn’t really care. He opens the cabinet and stuffs some catnip into one of Tigger’s treat toys.

The toy is a little refillable cloth chicken. Sid knows that Tigger has figured out how to peel back zippers but Cluckers is cute and its colors are Taylor’s favorite colors so Sid allows his cat get catnip high every once and awhile.

Sid must really seem out of sorts because Tigger follows Sid into the bedroom and offers to share Cluckers.

After taking off his shoes, he slips off his belt and takes off his shirt then climbs into bed in his dress pants. Cluckers in his mouth, Tigger hops onto the bed and kneads his little claws on Sid’s chest. Sid pets down the cat’s back, feeling Tigger arch his spine with the movement of Sid’s hand. He closes his eyes and the pressure in the back of his head increases.

“You’ll be my soulmate, won’t you?” Sid asks Tigger. The cat purrs, headbutting Sid’s hand for more pets. “I’m not technically alone if I have you.”

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

In his dreams his Timer always works. Sometimes he forgets to dream about one at all. But no matter if it’s there or not, Sid feels whole. Most of the time.

The nightmares aside, Sid dreams of different lifetimes that don’t involve filling the empty spaces with trivial things. While dreaming he doesn’t have the same concerns that linger in the back of his mind when he’s awake.

An arm circles around his waist, pulling Sid tight against a firm chest. Sid squeezes his eyes shut tight. His head doesn’t hurt as much anymore. The last thing he wants, is to get up and feel lazy for sleeping. He’ll likely end up trying to grade some of his assignments and his headache will come back. Sid kind of just wants to sleep forever.

“So lazy,” a voice chides warmly. “You gonna sleep all day? It’s almost noon.”

Surprised, Sid’s eyes flicker open. The warm body around him he could mistake for the layers and layers of sheets and maybe the presence of Tigger but unless his cat also learned how to speak, there’s a stranger in his bed. Sid tries to untangle himself but the visitor in his bed holds him down for a moment.

Sid huffs and the stranger laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Okay, okay. Now we get up.” The stranger is a man with minty breath and slightly chapped lips. When Sid looks at him, his face feels familiar but Sid can’t put his finger on why.

The man is overly familiar walking through Sid’s apartment. Tigger winds around the man’s legs but the man acts as this is normal and doesn’t miss a step. Sid trails behind despite his confusion.

The man corrals Sid into the living room where he goads Sid into sitting. There he wraps Sid in a blanket. On his coffee table there’s an open laptop that isn’t Sid’s and sheet after sheet of printed out journal articles. One of them in particular has a circular coffee stain on it but there’s no coffee mug around except for the one the man is pressing into Sid’s hand, so hot that it must have been freshly brewed.

When Tigger hops onto the couch, the man merely moves him back onto the floor.

“Head okay?” Sid realizes the man is asking. “Can turn the TV off.”

“I think I’m fine,” Sid says with uncertainty. He can’t take his eyes off the stranger. If his head is hurting before, Sid isn’t even thinking about it now.

“Okay,” the man echos. He brings his laptop over to sit with and after noticing Sid still studying him, he smiles and leans over to give Sid another kiss, this time on the forehead. “No fever. That’s good. If head okay, I’ll put on game.”

The man changes the documentary  about the travel pattern of vikings to a matinee game of the Penguins and Devils. Leaning back into the couch the man looks at Sid again, brows furrowed. “Not comfortable?”

Sid blushes, averting his gaze.  He just can’t stop staring. He’d been so focused on it that he barely noticed how stiff he had been sitting. He’s barely even touched Tigger, who has since made his way back up onto the couch for attention.

“I think,” Sid says cautiously, “I need some air.”

The man drapes his arm across the back of the couch, leaning into Sid’s space like it’s second nature. “Take blanket with you. It’s cold outside.”

Sid nods minutely. Tigger runs away as Sid starts to get up. The cat makes a beeline for the kitchen and Sid makes his way back to the bedroom. There’s a small little balcony outside that’s big enough for a chair and a small table that, when Sid had first rented his apartment, was a big selling point. It’s small but cozy and doable since it’s really only ever been him. Tigger has never been a big fan of being outside especially during the harsh winter months so Sid has never had to worry about his pet running away somehow.

On his nightstand where he usually keeps his phone is an unfamiliar shiny iPhone. If it’s the man’s, Sid plans on only doing a little bit of snooping but when he lights up the home screen, it’s the same picture of Tigger and Otis that Sid’s kept as his background for ages. Otis was the fattest cat Sid had ever seen but ultimately Otis was _Sid’s_ fat cat.

Sid doesn’t think the strange man would have Sid’s picture unless he was a stalker Sid was never aware he had.

He yanks the phone off the charger and feels oddly like he’s sneaking around his own apartment when he goes out onto the balcony. There’s no password on the phone and all the apps are arranged similarly to how Sid keeps his Nokia.

Sid dials Kris’s phone number straight from memory and watches as the phone recognizes it from the saved contacts list. The ringing so close to his ear makes his head throb slightly but after one, two, three rings, Kris picks up.

“Well, well, well, look who’s alive,” Kris picks up, laughing at his own joke.

“Kris,” Sid hisses low into the phone, “there’s a _man_ in my apartment!”

“And?”

“And I don’t know him!” Sid rubs his temples and brings the blanket closer around his body. The stranger really wasn’t kidding. It’s freezing outside.

“Did Geno go out?” Kris asks, seeming to finally pick up on Sid’s panic.

“Who the hell is Geno? Kris, there is a man in my apartment who I do not know. Can you — actually, I’m going to try to leave. I — can I come to your house?” Sid asks, his teeth chattering. Although it’s a risk that the man can overhear Sid’s conversation, he goes back into the bedroom and immediately heads for his closet. There’s a small suitcase in there that he can pack a few things in.

“Sid, is this a joke? I don’t even know where to start. Geno’s — Sid, I don’t even live in Princeton anymore. We moved to Pittsburgh like three years ago,” Kris answers. His voice matches Sid’s concern but then he starts talking to someone else on his side of the phone that Sid can’t see. Sid thinks he hears Cath’s voice but he can’t tell. He’s too focused on packing. “Sid,” Kris says sternly and oddly calm. “Cath is gonna call Geno. Everything’s gonna be alright. What did Dr. Vyas say when you saw him?”

Sid hears his name being called from the other room and he pauses momentarily, praying that the man will stay in the living room just for a few moments longer.

“I — I don’t know who Dr. Vyas is! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. The stress and anxiety makes tears well up but he blinks through them and enters the connecting bathroom to start collecting his toiletries.

“Sid?” the stranger questions. He looks concerned and cautious as he approaches Sid like Sid’s something fragile. “Cath call and say you’re confused.”

“I’m not — I’m not _confused_. I don’t know you!” Sid insists, taking the bathroom doorknob in his hand. He’ll lock himself inside if he has to.

“Sid,” the man repeats, sad. “Sid, can trust me. You just have accident. Need rest. I’ll lay down with you.”

Sid shakes his head, breathing through little hiccups when the tears roll down his cheeks slowly.

“Listen to him, Sid,” Kris tells him. Sid almost forgot he had Kris on the phone. “Geno will take care of you. If you really need me, Cath can watch the kids and I be there in a day, okay? Just listen to Geno and call me later anytime. I’ll pick up, I promise.”

Kris and Cath moved to Pittsburgh. Kris and Cath have kid _s_. Alex has a little sibling that Sid can’t remember and this strange man Geno is in his apartment and Sid is supposed to trust him.

His shoulders shake when he cries but he doesn’t really notice until Geno takes him and steers him toward the bed. It’s then that Sid realizes his room is decorated differently. There’s more color and accents that makes the room look more lived in than it had before.

Geno pushes back Sid’s hair and checks for a fever again, sighing when it appears nothing is wrong.

The phone Sid is gripping onto like a lifeline is taken from his hand easily and Sid watches and Geno talks to Kris before hanging up the phone.

“Sleep,” Geno says patiently. “I’ll call Dr. Vyas when sleep.”

Sid’s tears turn into sniffles which Geno wipes away with his hand, no matter how gross, then with a tissue.

“I’m get water. Take no time at all,” Geno promises. He presses another clean tissue into Sid’s hands and takes the dirty ones with him as he leaves the bedroom.

Sid curls his legs tight to his body and rolls onto his side facing away from the door. He doesn’t want to sleep and he doesn’t trust Geno even if Kris does. He plays with the tissue, crumpling it and smoothing it out again when he feels the sniffles come back. When he extends his arms next to his face, his Timer is right there on display. Like always, the Timer is zeroed out but there’s something different about the way it feels.

Sid sits up abruptly, brushing his fingers over the marking etched into his skin. Tigger darts up onto the bed, a toy in his mouth to comfort Sid with. Geno is back too, with a glass full of water and his own phone in his hand.

“Drink some,” Geno suggests, holding the glass out.

He takes what’s offers and drinks the whole thing in a few long, desperate gulps. Sid rubs the dried tears away from his eyes, feeling rubbed raw and tired.

“ _Lyubimiy_ ,” Geno sighs. He sits next to Sid on the bed, taking the glass away to put on one of the nightstands. “Feel better?” Sid doesn’t answer, feeling numb. “Sleep.”

Geno almost kisses Sid again but decides against it. He instead smiles sadly and gets up to close the curtains. He takes an extra moment to take a suit jacket which had been hanging off a full length mirror with him.

Sid is vaguely aware of Geno moving around him but once he finds the mirror, Sid can only stare.

The image looking back at him is him but it isn’t. It’s too old, too wrinkled. There are gray hairs and wrinkles that don’t belong. When Sid rubs his face, the image in the mirror does too. He looks like he’s in his forties now even though all his memories are in his twenties. Years and decades upon centuries of being in his twenties.

Sid hears Geno shuffle back into the room. The man places another fresh glass of water on Sid’s side of the bed. He’s wearing the jacket now but the worried look on his face is still the same. Geno kneels next to the bed, tucking Sid under the blankets firmly.

“My classes canceled but more time to get medicine now. Will be okay for twenty minutes? I’ll be quick.”

Sid just nods, his gaze feeling glossy and blurred.

Geno pats down the bed until he finds Sid’s phone and puts that next to the water. He reminds Sid to call him with some other things that Sid doesn’t hear. He closes his eyes tight and tells himself to breathe. In and out, in and out until he falls asleep.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Tigger is pawing at Sid’s face, chattering desperately until Sid opens his eyes. His heart his hammering in his chest and the dryness along his cheeks must have been from crying while sleeping. Sid sits up and holds Tigger to his body. Tigger doesn’t protest being manhandled, instead trying to burrow his head close to Sid.

There’s no water on his nightstand and no mirror in the corner of his room. His half packed suitcase is nowhere to be seen, still tucked away in his closet where it belongs.

On shaky legs, Sid manages to drag himself into the bathroom. He braces for impact as he turns on the light and feels an instantaneous relief when his young self looks back at him in the mirror.

The only thing that the same is the zeroes on his Timer but not all of them are zeroes.

He manages not to faint, though he does have to sit down as he calls his doctor to make an appointment immediately. They can’t see him today but the urgency of his situation manages to get him in tomorrow.

His appointment is less than 24 hours away but it’s still too far away.

Much too far away.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Kris is not in Pittsburgh because he’s sitting in his office in Princeton, New Jersey, right where he belongs. Sid hugs him like they haven’t seen each other in years and Kris allows it without question until the hug carries into multiple minutes.

“Didn’t Marc send you home three hours ago? What’re you doing here? Most people would love to have a half day to themself,” Kris complains.

Sid could kiss his best friend. “My Timer,” Sid says, feeling manic, “it’s _working_.”

“Sid,” Kris says, unconvinced.

“I know it sounds crazy but it is. It’s working.” Sid hurriedly pushes up his sleeve.

Kris looks like he’s about to warn Sid about wasting his time but he swallows it when Sid proudly brandishes his Timer counting down sixty years.

“You have a Time,” Kris points out the obvious. “You have a Time!” Kris yanks Sid back into a congratulatory hug. He may even sound more relieved than Sid. “Holy shit, man. I’m real happy for you.

Sid brushes his fingers over his Timer, just wanting to keep checking that it’s real. “I know. It’s crazy.”

“Sixty years though, that’s a long time,” Kris points out.

People have found ways of changing their Timers before. Spontaneous individuals have found ways of making their Timers change to their needs or so people say. There hasn’t been enough legitimate documentation to draw any solid conclusions. Sid is certain that another sixty years is barely anything.

“I’ve already waited so much longer than that,” Sid counters in return.

Kris smiles then claps his hands together. “Well, this calls for drinks then. On me!”

Sid wants to agree immediately but deep down he’s tired and anxious. He really does have no problem in waiting, he’s grown to be very patient it’s just that questions of why keep popping up in his head. Why him? Why now?

“If your head’s still hurting, we can take a raincheck,” Kris offers, noticing Sid’s sudden silence.

Although his head feels muddled, it’s for a different reason than before. Still. “This weekend?” Sid suggests.

Kris pulls out his phone with a mischievous grin. “We’ll make it a boys’ night out. Anyone else you’d wanna invite besides Marc?”

“Maybe just Marc,” Sid replies hesitantly.

“Whatever you want, man. It’s a night for you.” Kris pockets his phone. Leaning back in his chair, he claps his hands together. He makes a face when Sid keeps direct eye contact for too long. “What?” he questions.

Sid shakes his head, relieved to be back in reality. “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Kris laughs awkwardly at Sid’s odd behavior. “You’re not gonna hug me again though, right?”

Sid thinks carefully, wishing the atmosphere wasn’t so serious, before saying, “Two dudes hugging isn’t gay if you say no homo.”

Kris chokes on air. “I can’t believe you just said that. That’s so outdated. That’s … I haven’t heard that since college!”

“Well you _are_ old,” Sid teases.

“Pot calling kettle,” Kris warns.

Idly Sid rubs at his Timer.

His Timer finally works normally. Somewhere, Sid has a soulmate. Kris is still 31, Sid is still 25. Kris still has only one kid and he lives in New Jersey. They’re both professors at Princeton and this is real. He’s not dreaming. The nightmare is over. One day he’ll have the same gray hair and wrinkle lines that Kris does.

He’s scared shitless.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

A prospective doctoral student is brought to Sid’s office for a quick introduction. Sid tries to hide how exhausted he is, however, judging from Pascal’s scrutinizing gaze, he did a poor job. Pascal suggests to the applicant waiting outside, no doubt probably scaring the kid shitless that she did something wrong.

All Pascal wants is to talk.

“How much did you sleep last night?” Pascal asks, direct.

Sid protectively brings his coffee mug closer to his side of the desk. “Enough.”

Sid tried sleeping last night but every time he closed his eyes he saw Geno and no sooner when he opened them, he forgot Geno’s face twice as fast.

“Not enough, you mean,” Pascal corrects. He glances at the chair in Sid’s office but Sid doesn’t let him linger over it for long.

“You have a someone waiting for you,” Sid reminds him.

Pascal mutters something underneath his breath. “We’re not done here.”

Sid logs off his computer and starts gathering his things. “I think we are.” He has an hour to get to his appointment with Dr. Wagner.

He sees Pascal out of his office, ignoring the mini-interrogation. Pascal threatens going through Sid to Kris but Kris doesn’t know what Sid’s up to either. He’s only telling people he’s going to see the doctor on a need to know basis and nobody needs to know he’s going.

Dr. Wagner is a general practitioner with a background in Timer functioning. Timer specialists are “soft science” practitioners and hard to come by. They might be more common now but Sid had long given up on feeling the need to go to them. His Timer was always the same, until now.

Sid needs some answers and a bit of optimism. He doesn’t get his hopes up too high though. Of all the years he’s gone to Dr. Wagner, he’s always been more of a glass half empty kind of guy.

“Your heartbeat and blood pressure seems normal. Have you noticed any physiological changes recently?” Dr. Wagner asks, rolling around on his little stool.

“I’ve had some pretty bad headaches the past few days and I’ve been really aware of my Timer lately,” Sid admits.

“What do you mean by that? Aware of your Timer?”

“Like it itches a lot or I just feel the need to touch it somehow.”

Dr. Wagner hums to show he’s listening. “Well, those are pretty common symptoms individuals report when they sense changes in their Timer. Granted, I’ve never had a patient with a case quite like yours. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to consider making an appointment with an associate of mine, Dr. Vyas. He’s quite the Timer expert.”

“Dr. … Vyas,” Sid repeats. His heart drops and he automatically clutches his forearm, squeezing tight around his Timer.

“Yes. Dr. Vyas is wonderful Timer specialist. He’s very familiar with tests that can be run to make sure that your Timer becoming active so suddenly doesn’t affect your health negatively in any way,” Dr. Wagner explains. He rolls to the computer and rummages around the desk drawers for a business card. “Here,” he says, offering what he finds to Sid.

Sid traces the glossy letters with his fingers. He focuses on breathing.

“Sometimes,” Dr. Wagner says, trying to be helpful, “with cases like yours when a Timer starts working suddenly after years of being zeroed out means your soulmate was just born. Nothing else. Nothing to worry about.”

“And the other times?” Sid asks.

Dr. Wagner frowns. “Some people say it’s like a countdown to an expiry date but the reported cases could be nothing more than misinterpreted nonsense. Causation does not equal correlation.”

“What cause?”

Dr. Wagner stands, serious. His facial expression looks practiced, perfectly schooled and rehearsed.

“Death.”

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Sid wants to get drunk. So incredibly drunk that he doesn’t even feel like he’s in his own body and he can’t remember the rest of today as it blends into tomorrow.

He’s not that much of a sad sack that he’d get drunk in public so he stops at a drugstore halfway home from his doctor’s appointment with Wagner. He’d prefer to get drunk off beer since he doesn’t totally hate the taste but something harder like vodka can get the job done quicker. Sid is comparing his options when the weight on his chest returns and his Timer comes alive.

“Professor Crosby,” Sid hears, nearly jumping out of his own skin.

He manages not to curse. Somehow.

Evgeni is standing next to Sid, waiting expectantly for acknowledgement. He’s dressed in a casual business suit.

“Evgeni,” Sid says, careful not to get the pronunciation wrong. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here.”

“Can say same to you.”

Sid notices that when Evgeni smiles his eyes crinkle. He can’t help but selfishly wonder if he could ask Evgeni to keep his smile just for him.

“How?” Sid begins to ask as Evgeni starts to say, “Been meaning to speak.” They share an awkward laugh.

“Professor go first,” Evgeni offers.

Sid feels embarrassment wash over him for being caught in the liquor section of the store. “How, uh, was your interview? I heard it was today.”

“Good,” Evgeni says confidently. “Dr. Lemieux say acceptance should come in mail soon.”

“Congratulations!” Sid says genuinely. The next time Evgeni smiles, it feels oddly intimate.

“Thank. Means lots coming from Sidney Crosby.” Evgeni eyes the bottle in Sid’s hands and the smile fades. “Interrupting something?”

Sid laughs awkwardly, putting the bottle back on the shelf. He should’ve just gotten a six pack of beer and called it a day. Maybe two packs to make sure he can drown his misery.

“No, no, you’re fine.” Sid tries to wave off the situation casually.

Evgeni doesn’t appear convinced with the way his lips look tight. “You have time to talk then?”

“Sure, what, uh, do you want to talk about?”

“Maybe we just exchange numbers to meet another time? Feel like I’m interrupting,” Evgeni changes his mind. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to offer Sid.

Sid is too tired to argue so he agrees. He gives Evgeni his contact information, waits for him to leave so he can buy his beer, and goes home. The two phone calls and numerous text messages from Kris remain ignored. He won’t have to call Kris back anyway. His friend will be waiting in his office no matter if Sid replies.

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Evgeni accepts Princeton’s offer and Dr. Lemieux thanks Sid like Sid had anything to do with it.

Sid keeps waiting for Evgeni to call but after a week, Sid stops looking forward to hearing Evgeni reach out. He must’ve went back to Russia to prepare for the move, Sid naturally assumes. In another six months when Evgeni starts teaching, they can have their talk.

Sid tells himself that he can wait and he tells himself and he tells Tigger who probably couldn’t care less about Sid’s love life so long as he gets that fancy tuna.

Sid is watching over his class taking a test when his phone begins to get a call. He doesn’t look at the caller ID for more than a second before accepting. It may seem inappropriate but he catches Conor’s eye and excuses himself from the classroom.

“Hello?” he answers, his voice light and hopeful. The number isn’t in his contacts so it could be Evgeni calling.

“You’re in a good mood,” Marc-Andre says with a small laugh.

“Oh, Marc,” Sid replies, disappointed.

Marc pretends to take offense. “What? Were you waiting for a hot babe to call you back or something?”

Sid hasn’t programmed Marc or Kris’s office phones into his cell phone. They rarely call him on his cell while they’re at work. He had been so quick to pick up that he didn’t see the Princeton area code.

“No,” Sid says but his tone reads _not exactly_.

“I won’t keep you long then,” Marc tells him. “Kris told me we’re going out for drinks this weekend. I just wanted to tell you congratulations first. Sixty years is a long time to wait but it’s about damn time. Those sixty years will fly by.”

“Thanks, that — that means a lot.”

“Of course. We’re best friends. Best friends support each other, right?”

Sid closes his eyes. He tries to picture Geno in his head but the only thing he sees is a silhouette.

“Right.”

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Taylor and Sid are sitting in their parents’ house over tea with biscuits and butter. Her husband is outside helping their mother chop wood while their father is at work. Taylor’s husband is on duty as well but when their mother saw him walk by, he was nice enough to put his activity on pause.

“I miss you,” Sid confesses.

He’s older but he hasn’t been married off yet. The purpose of Timers hasn’t been fully discovered yet but the fact that Sid’s is different is enough for other families to be wary of Sid. Nobody wants to marry a man who’s so strange. Since he’s eighteen, his father suggested he join the military. It’s honorable and noble to serve one’s country and perhaps while Sid is away from home, he’ll discover his purpose.

Perhaps while Sid is away his parents can live peacefully.

“As do I,” Taylor replies putting her hand on top of his.

“Are you trying for children?” Sid asks. He adores children, their innocence and purity. He misses being younger and playing with Taylor and her small friends. He doesn’t do that anymore. Playing with children — working with children — is a woman’s job.

He should go to the army so he can become a man.

“We are. No success yet but we’ll keep trying,” Taylor confirms.

Their mother comes back into the house carrying a basket full of yarn, waving someone in the house behind her. It’s not Taylor’s husband but the blacksmith’s boy, Jean. He has an armful of chopped wood which their mother directs him to the fireplace. Out of the corner of Sid’s eye he catches Taylor following Jean carefully.

“You’re such a dear,” their mother tells Jean, patting his arm.

Taylor stands, adjusting her dress and quickly fixing her hair. She looks down at Jean’s shoes but curtsies in front of him with a smile. “Hello,” she greets him.

Sid stands to join the interaction. Jean bows quickly. He holds his hand out for Taylor’s and kisses her knuckles. The gesture is sweet but Taylor is already a married woman. He steps forward, prepared to protest on behalf of her honor but Taylor is turning to him. Her smile is genuine and steps into the circle of Jean’s open arms.

No longer are they standing in their parents’ old house.

“Sidney,” Taylor begins. Her clothes are different, just like when Sid saw her before. “Sometime you have to take a leap of faith,” she tells him. Then the same thing that happened the last time he dreamt of her begins to happen and even knowing the cues, Sid is powerless in stopping it. Her mouth keeps moving but he can’t hear a word and Jean is kissing his sister. They break apart at the distant sound of crying. No matter how fast Sid runs forward, they become more distant.

His sister hadn’t married for love but she found him anyway. He lived next door right under their noses.

Sid feels defeated and tired. The familiar sensation of Tigger winding around his legs snaps Sid out of his trance. A dog barking gets louder and louder until a wet tongue is licking his face and heavy paws are propped against his chest.

“Jeffrey!” Geno chides, pulling the dog away by the collar. “Sid,” he says, sounding almost reverent.

Sid looks up at the man, desperately trying to study his face so he can remember later. He traces along tired eyes and a slightly curved nose down to pink lips. He closes his eyes and tries to map out Geno’s features and the man — his _soulmate_ — pulls Sid close until they’re chest to chest. Geno kisses Sid like it’s the last time they’ll ever kiss. Slow and deep.

“Geno?” Sid asks, hiding his face against the man’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna wait another sixty years.”

“Won’t have to,” Geno promises. “Already found you.”

 

**⚝ ⚝ ⚝**

 

Tenants don’t often come knocking at his door. They know where he lives but the handyman lives right in 2F so only large issues come to him directly.

Sid struggles to dust off the cheeto dust and the cat hair before answering the door. He’s presentable enough and maybe if he looks caught off guard the tenant will just go away and come back later when Sid can look presentable.

“Can I help you?” Sid asks, opening the door. He has to jut out his foot in time to catch Tigger from darting outside. Tigger might not like being outdoor but hallways are just fine.

“Now good to talk?”

Evgeni shuffles, bouncing his weight foot to foot looking ready to flee if that’s what Sid asks. Sid wouldn’t dream of it. Not when he’s been thinking about Evgeni for weeks.

“Yeah, come inside,” Sid insists hurriedly. He hadn’t expected any visitors but he keeps most of his apartment tidy. His kitchen counters are always covered and his bookshelf is overflowing. Evgeni looks so nervous that Sid doesn’t even think he notices.

“I figured you’d be back in Russia,” Sid says when they’ve both sat down on the couch. He should be asking how Evgeni found out where he lives. He should be asking any of the million questions going through his head but all he can focus on is that Evgeni is here.

Evgeni takes in a deep breath, almost nodding before stopping. “Actually, already move to states.”

Sid looks at Evgeni’s clenched hands and wishes he could smooth them out. “Oh.” He had no clue. If Evgeni mentioned it at dinner, Sid had barely been listening.  “So where are you staying?”

“Friend Sasha let me stay with him. Temporary solution until new semester officially start. Some things still in Russia, you know,” Evgeni reveals.

“That’s good,” Sid says, feeling awkward that he already offered his congratulations when they were in the store.

“Sid,” Evgeni turns to Sid directly, “you feel it, right?” He shrugs off his coat to show he’s wearing short sleeves that show his Timer is zeroed out.

Sid smiles, bittersweet. He lets Evgeni see that his Timer is slowly ticking. His sixty years has decreased but a few months less is nothing. Time, to Sid, has always meant nothing. There’s a connection he feels too, in the way his Timer feels electrified when Evgeni is around and how his heart beats faster like they do in the movies.

But their timing is wrong.

Evgeni holds Sid’s wrist in one hand and holds his arm to Sid’s to compare their Timers. The numbers on Sid’s arm glitch. Just a quick flicker where they all go back to zero. Evgeni’s numbers do the same. They transform.

**59:09:25:21:43:12**

“When I was young, Timer change suddenly. Mamma say doctors think I’m broken. It count down like normal but then it change. I meet you when my Timer go zero and it reset because we’re connected,” Evgeni says. His thumb brushes over Sid’s pulse point over the seconds counting down. “I know you wait long time for me. I wait barely forty years but you been ready long time.”

Evgeni slides closer on the couch, his lips against Sid’s temple. Sid pictures the faceless Geno and all the blanks slide into place where Evgeni is sitting right next to him. It feels like an outcome too good to be true. His Timer still isn’t working properly. It’s been reset somehow or, even worse, Sid is Geno’s but Geno isn’t Sid’s.

“But my Timer,” Sid weakly protests. “My Timer isn’t done yet.”

“Doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you.” Evgeni holds onto Sid tighter. He tries kissing Sid and looks pained when Sid denies him.

“I want someone to get old with,” Sid says, slipping his hand away. He doesn’t go very far but he already misses the warmth of Evgeni’s hand. All these years he’s had only a few flings. None of them lasted very long. It felt wrong, like he was with someone who was promised to another.

“Then let’s get old,” Evgeni vows. He takes Sid’s hands and holds them on his lap. “I know you’re my one. We do together.”

Sid’s eyes begin to water. There’s warmth in Evgeni’s eyes for Sid. Because of Sid. His bottom lip wobbles but he sees the love. How natural it is for Evgeni without question. He knows undoubtedly that Sid is his soulmate.

“A leap of faith,” Sid says, barely a whisper. Evgeni nods eagerly. The man squeezes Sid’s hands and this time, Sid leans forward for the kiss. He cups Evgeni’s face in his hands, mapping out his cheeks to the slope of his neck and when Evgeni pulls Sid closer, he goes until he’s straddling the man’s lap.

All wandering hands and smiles, Sid can barely keep up. His tears spread onto Evgeni’s cheeks and Sid embarrassedly wipes them away.

“Is it too early to tell you I love you?” he asks.

Evgeni grips his hips tighter. “Never.”

Sid smiles so wide that he worries — very, very minutely — that soon his face will be sore. “I love you.”

 

**13 MONTHS LATER**

 

“ _Good afternoon, Mr. Crosby, I’m just calling you to confirm your follow up appointment tomorrow at 11:00AM  with Dr. Vyas. I’ve been told to pass on that all of your lab work came back pristine but of course Dr. Vyas will go over the specifics with you in detail at your appointment. We’ll see you tomorrow, have a nice day_.”

 _To replay the message press_ —

Sid trashes the last of his voice messages while he flips through the mail. Tigger brushes against Sid’s leg to get rid of an itch and when the toaster pops, animal claws scratch against the wood floor rapidly.

“You’re not getting any,” Sid tells Jeffrey. He looks down at the giant mutt giving him puppy eyes and sighs. “You’re not,” he reasserts although later he’s sure that he’ll give into Jeffrey’s dirty tricks and feed him dinner scraps.

He takes his toast and butters them while solving the daily crossword in the newspaper. It’s just enough in his stomach so he can take his afternoon pills. He downs it all with water.

Knowing he’s not getting anything out of Sid, Jeffrey wanders off to the front door so he can be there when Geno gets home. Geno’s always on time coming home and today’s no different. From the way it sounds, Jeffrey is so busy jumping over Geno that the man can barely get in the front door. He eventually manages and Sid doesn’t pretend to hide the amusement when his husband tiredly drags himself into the kitchen.

“Welcome home,” Sid says. He slides out of his bar stool, hearing knee pop. He winces and Geno soothes the pain by kissing him.

“Getting old,” Geno teases.

Sid bends his knee a few extra times. It aches but it doesn’t make the noise again. “I know.”

“Feeling better?” Geno asks still.

“Yeah,” he says, relieved. “I even took a nap today.”

“Good.”

Sid enjoys being in Geno’s arms for a bit longer before eyeing the package sitting on their counter. He picks it up, inspecting the label to see it addressed to himself.

“Open it,” Geno encourages.

“What is it?”

“Just open it. Wouldn’t be surprise if I told you.”

Sid takes a pair of scissors to the packaging. When he pulls it open, the inside is nicely gift wrapped in baby blue tissue paper. “Fancy,” he tells Geno appreciatively. He rips the paper open without care for finesse. The smile on his face is automatic. Geno could give him dirt and Sid would still smile and thank his husband with kisses and affection.

It’ll be much longer than a year for Sid to grow out of the honeymoon phase.

“Oh, wow,” Sid says, speechless as he takes out the picture frame. Inside is an old family portrait. His mother and sister are sitting on a love seat together while Sid stands behind them in the center. The image vaguely jogs his memory. The photographer originally had wanted Sid to sit as the patriarch with the women standing around him but his sister was pregnant at the time and his mother was getting sicker by the day.

His mother had wanted to get the picture done. She had no photographs or portraits of their father and if she was going to leave this earth, she was going to leave her children something to them to remember her by.

Sometime with all the moving Sid had done in his life, he found it harder to keep all of his family’s things. He always tried to leave family heirlooms in good hands of collectors who would treasure them but all the paintings and photographs were impossible to keep track of. Some he knows got left in his parents’ house. Others, in the rush of travel, he hadn’t managed to take with him.

The only photos of his family he’s been able to keep preserved is a small locket photo that’s long faded. The image is so tiny his mother and sister are barely distinguishable from one another. He never opens it in fear of the pictures being gone completely the next time he looks.

“How did you get this?” Sid asks barely able to believe what he’s holding.

Geno leans over Sid’s shoulder, putting his arms around Sid’s waist. “Sasha find me antique show. Some lady trying to sell so I buy. Your family very famous.”

Sid snorts out a laugh.

His father passed of sickness near the age of 50 when Sid was young and Taylor was even younger. And their mother caught a fever that never broke. Sid went off to fight off the rebellion and when he returned home, she was gone. Taylor lived for nearly 80 years before she passed. She was lucky, she was never sick and she was graced with easy childbirths.

Sid never realized it had been because it took so long for Jean to find her.

It was strange to live that long back then, and still strange now. But he supposes that made people like Sid a freak of nature. When Timers were barely understood and much of the world went undiscovered by everyone else.

“Love a man in uniform,” Geno starts. Sure enough, Sid wore his army uniform because his mother told him too.

He looked handsome in a uniform. He looked like a man, like his father wanted, in a uniform.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that uniform is all but dust now,” Sid says with mirth. He strokes his hand down the image. The colors look vivid as if they’ve been retouched. Geno must’ve had that done after purchasing the portrait. Not that Sid cares. He’d get every picture of his family redone even at the cost of the market price if it meant seeing them again.

“Bet they’re proud of you,” Geno says. He rubs his hands up and down Sid’s arms. “Son of successful tactical captain and doctor. Have successful life, successful husband.”

“Yeah? Successful husband?”

Geno squeezes Sid’s side to see him squirm. “Okay, trophy husband. Much handsome, wait over 200 years to finally meet.”

“Yeah, you are,” Sid agrees, turning around in Geno’s arms. He fixes the lapels of Geno’s jacket and uses a hold on them to pull his husband in closer. “You were worth the wait. Everyone told me I’d find you in time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sid's true age is left unknown purposely. Partly because I'm not a history buff so reconstructing Sid's background would have been very Google/Wikipedia reliant and messy, and also because I wanted to keep in line with Kris's eternal struggle to find out how old cryptid!Sid is.
> 
> However, Sid is modeled to be about 200 years old.
> 
> Overall, I've been sitting on this Reddit prompt for a long time wondering how to do it. I've always felt that aging element opens up so many doors for interesting world building which made the length of this fic a battle for me. I wanted there to be a slow burn to show how long Sid has been alone and his struggle with intimacy to his connection with Geno but I didn't want this to turn into an inflated 30k+ monster since pacing is *everything* for a good slow burn. Also, because I made a university the backdrop I wanted to establish how they got there without exposition dumping.
> 
> Still, I'm pretty satisfied with the current result. You can find me on tumblr @ sinkpages.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
